


Burn Out/Fade Away

by icedcoffeebro



Category: Doctor Sleep (2019), Doctor Sleep - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canon Compliant, For the most part, Gay Bar, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Pre-IT Chapter Two (2019), Set in 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedcoffeebro/pseuds/icedcoffeebro
Summary: 2010Eddie Kaspbrak meets a man with blue eyes that remind him of someone frombefore.
Relationships: Dan "Danny" Torrance & Eddie Kaspbrak, Dan "Danny" Torrance/Eddie Kaspbrak
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73





	Burn Out/Fade Away

**Author's Note:**

> I'm... proud of this and this ship has rights. This is the first part of this story, the second is set in 2016.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also, for clarity: This is before Dan's recovery, set in NYC, and Marty is a nickname Eddie has for Myra on the book.

It’s the first time Eddie has ever step into a place like this.

He looks around the room, all those bodies pressed together, the music as loud as it can be, some go-go boys on stage. And none of it bothers him. He made the choice to be here. 

He just wishes he wasn’t so _alone_.

He goes up to the counter, a man his age behind the counter. He must look scared, but that’s basically a default for him. Big doe-y eyes. The bartender slides him a shot. He grabs it.

“On the house,” he says, or maybe he only mouths it. With the volume of the music, it doesn’t make a difference. 

Eddie licks his lips, looking at the liquid, and he downs it. _Vodka_. He didn’t even stop to smell it. 

His phone vibrates on his pocket, he takes it out, _Marty_ flashing on the screen, he feels bile raising up. He puts his phone face down on the counter and calls for another shot. 

He didn’t love her anymore. And he was leaving her. He had told her as much as he walked out with his luggage. But she wouldn’t let him go. She would hug his legs and stop him. And he almost gave in. Because she looked like his mother. Because she was _Myra_. And they were married. And there was safety on that. 

But he managed to leave. 

And here he was now. 

When his second drink arrives, so does a man on the stool next to him. A man who seems to be ahead of Eddie on the drinking. A man who looks (and smells) like he’s spilled several strangers’ drinks on himself, but doesn’t seem to mind. He’s holding a glass on his hand. He catches Eddie staring, and that’s when Eddie, despite the poor lighting, sees his eyes. He could swear he’s seen a shadow of the sadness he finds in them before. But he can’t place a name on the eyes; it’s like it’s stuck on the tip of his tongue. 

“Hi,” the guy says, Eddie feels like he has to look away, the shame his mother _(and Myra)_ ingrained so deeply inside him clawing his way in. But he pushes that feeling aside as best as he can. It took him months to even consider stepping inside this bar. And he’s not going to quit at _eye contact._

“Hey,” he says.

The man studies his face, then takes a sip of his drink, “Have I seen you before?”

“I think I’d remember something like that,” _unlike his entire life prior to moving to New York._

The other guy chuckles, “I’m not worth remembering, people tend to forget,” Eddie is ready to step in and say something, but the guy says, “I’m Dan,”

“Eddie,” 

“First time?” Dan asks, turning his glass on the counter. 

“Is it obvious?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Dan says, “I’m just good at reading people– when I’m not drowned in alcohol, that is”

“And does that happen often?” Eddie says, Dan lowers his look, and Eddie feels like an idiot, “I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s medicine,” Dan says, and Eddie is surprised on how clear he can hear him, “just medicine,”

Eddie understands _medicine_ too well. He feels himself reaching for his pockets, but he draws them back. He promised himself he’d let himself be tonight. No pills, no Myra. Just himself. 

“How long ago?” Dan asks, looking at Eddie’s left hand.

“Huh?” Eddie asks, hiding his hands below the counter.

“You were playing with your ring finger, as if turning something,” Dan raises an eyebrow, “so, how long ago?”

“Oh.” Eddie feels somehow embarrassed, “Six months,” Eddie says, “but it ended way before,”

Dan nods. Not asking anything further. 

“You seem like a guy with ghosts,” Dan says after a while. 

In other circumstances, Eddie would’ve scoffed, he would’ve dismissed this as someone wanting to analyze him. But he doesn’t feel like telling Dan off. He’s too sincere. Dan seems like a man with nothing to lose. 

“And do you know ghosts?” Eddie asks. 

Dan sips his drink, then wipes his mouth with his sleeve, “Got a few on the closet, yeah,”

“I think the expression is ‘skeletons in the closet’,” Eddie says. Dan laughs, and Eddie bites his lip, “You seem insightful,” 

“Wish I wasn’t,” Dan says, looking away.

“You have a gift,” Eddie says, Dan looks at him alarmed, “certain people are born with a gift. Me, for example, I’m like a human compass. I never get lost.” Dan relaxes, “And you,” he points at him with his glass “you can read people,”

Dan offers him a smile, “Something like that,”

“So,” Eddie wraps his drink on both his hands, “can I ask you something?”

“You really want advice from a drunk?” Dan says, and Eddie can tell he’s surprised. 

“You’re not that drunk,”

Dan looks at his glass and smiles, “The night is still young, dear,”

Eddie feels something he hasn’t felt in forever– maybe ever. Eddie Kaspbrak wasn’t used to feeling stuff, come think of it. He felt a _pull_. Like Dan could very well take him to other worlds. But also like he could ground him down on Earth when needed. 

He feels compelled to tell him what he thinks, as if Dan would know regardless, “You look like you’ve been to Hell,”

“It’s frozen,” Dan downs his drink, then asks for another, “and in Colorado,” Eddie snorts. Dan doesn’t.

“Well, you came back, so yeah, I’d like your input,” Eddie touches his finger, where his ring was, “was this a good idea?”

“Does she help you?”

“She’s familiar,” Eddie says.

“And yet here you are,” Dan raises his arms, pointing at the general place, “somewhere new,”

Eddie smiles, “Yeah,”

The bartender hands Dan his drink, he grabs it and holds it in front of Eddie, proposing a toast.

“To new beginnings,” he says.

Eddie clinks their glasses together. And when he catches Dan’s piercing blue eyes, he finds himself liking what he sees. A lot.

***

Eddie tries to catch up with Dan on his drinking. But he soon finds out that, even if they’re the same size, it’s impossible. He wonders if Dan does this daily. But quickly shakes this thought off. He doesn’t know what he’s going through. And he’s not one to judge.

They go bar hopping, Dan with an arm draped over Eddie. Eddie welcomes the weight. It feels right, it feels like it’s lifting him up, rather than dragging him down.

They laugh a lot, Eddie stops Dan from getting into trouble. They enjoy each others’ presence, that much is clear.

They walk through the dark Manhattan streets. Close. But not touching. The touching stopped a while ago, much to Eddie’s dismay. He wants Dan. And Dan’s drunk. Really drunk. So he invites him to spend the night.

“I’m not good for you,” Dan slurs out, not meeting Eddie’s eyes.

“You don’t know that,”

Dan gently touches his cheek, Eddie feels stripped, Dan’s touch is… Invigorating, “You would be surprised,” he puts his hand away and starts walking away. Eddie wonders if he could even find his way home.

“Please,” Eddie says, and it sounds like a plea. But it works. Dan stops on his tracks and turns around, a pained, unfocused look on his face. He has that look– the look Eddie swears he could place on someone else– someone with blue eyes, too– and Eddie’s heart breaks. He puts his arm around him and walks him to his home. Not caring if someone sees.

***

There’s no touching.

Dan starts kissing Eddie’s neck, and it feels good. But Eddie isn’t like this, he doesn’t want Dan to not remember this, so he tucks him into bed.

“Why are you being nice?” Dan asks.

“Everyone needs a friend,” Eddie says, and he feels a pain in his heart, “good night,”

As he lays on his sofa, he thinks about the concept of friends. The word feels bittersweet for Eddie. Like a forgotten memory. He wouldn’t say he has them, at his 34 years of age. He has acquaintances. And Myra, but not anymore.

But there’s something else. Something locked on the back of his mind. 

Eddie has learned to live with the fact he can’t remember his childhood. 

He always thought this was for the best. After all, his father died when he was a child, right? But there were times in which he couldn’t take it. Every time security questions would ask about a first pet, or the street where he grew up, or the name of his first friend. 

He just doesn’t know. 

And now, this. 

He rolls to his other side on the couch.

He can’t foster any memories. But he can foster a feeling. A feeling of being loved. Of being content. Peaceful. A word. _Lover._

He tries to remember. But it’s pointless. 

He thinks of the man sleeping on his room. And he feels they have more in common than he thinks. 

It doesn’t do to dwell on memories. But as he has a man on his bed who looks like he’s given up, he thinks there must be more to life than work and feeling miserable. 

Maybe Dan can help him find that.

***

The next morning, Dan wakes Eddie up. He’s helping himself with a bowl of cereal.

“Good morning,” Eddie says.

“Hi,” Dan says.

“Everything okay?”

“Could use a drink,” Dan jokes. It’s Eddie’s turn to not laugh.

“Got somewhere to be?”

“Rarely,” Dan takes a spoonful of cereal.

Eddie nods. He licks his lower lip, “We didn’t do anything last night, by the way,”

“I know,” Dan says. Eddie throws him a confused look, “I remember.”

With the amount of copious alcohol he took, that sounds implausible. But he lets him have this. It doesn’t hurt Eddie. 

“Got anything to do today?” it was Saturday, and for Eddie this usually meant putting on pants and watching comedy specials on Netflix. But he had Dan here. 

He shakes his head, “Nah,”

Eddie considers for a bit. Then a thought flashes through his mind. 

“I don’t know much about my past,” he says. 

Dan squints, “What?”

“Would you… would you mind coming with me? I don’t–” he takes a deep breath, “I don’t know where, but I want you there,”

“I don’t know, Eds–”

“Don’t call me that,”

Dan gives him a strange look, then sighs, “Fine,”

And he feels like he’s sprinting without running out of breath. And that was fucking great.

***

“Can we stop somewhere, Eddie? I really need a drink.” Dan says, rubbing his temples.

“It’s okay, Dan,” Eddie fries to sound as calm as possible. He’s never dealt with something like this. And he wants to help Dan. Take him to the beach, spend the day with him. They’re both lonely. And when you’re so lonely, you just want _someone._

“No, you don’t get it,” Dan says, a bit desperate, “I–”

“Medicine,” Eddie says, concentrating on the road ahead, “I get that well enough,”

Dan shuts up then. Eddie keeps driving.

“I’m sure there’s AAs in Manhattan,”

“I’m not taking you to AA,” Eddie says.

Dan furrows his eyebrow, “Then?” 

“I don’t know,” he could’ve said he was gonna take him to a beach. Which was true enough. That was his plan as of now. But again, he felt Dan deserved _certainties_ , not ‘maybes’. 

Dan lays down once again. Eddie wonders just how bad his hangover must be.

“It.” he says, after they’ve crossed the state line to Connecticut.

“Hm?” Eddie says.

“You’re thinking of It,”

“Of what?”

“It,”

“I don’t… think I follow,”

Dan sighs, Eddie’s memories weren’t giving him much. He was only able to hear because he was thinking so damn loud. “Derry, Maine,” he sits up, “is that where we’re headed?”

Eddie feels air leaving his lungs. He steers the car to the side of the road, afraid he’d crash it if he continues. He parks and brakes the car. Takes off his seatbelt, and gets out. Dan follows suit.

Eddie is rubbing his eyes using his thumb and index. 

“How?” he simply says. 

“You said it, I have a gift—“

“How do you know that?” Eddie looked from side to side, “Are you a stalker? Have you been stalking me?” he tries grabbing Dan, who flinches.

“No,” Dan says, “gut feeling, is all,”

“Bullshit,” Eddie deadpans, “you know stuff about myself I don’t even remember,” he feels like he’s about to lose it. 

“Look,” Dan says, “can we calm down? Go somewhere and talk, maybe? And for the love of all that’s good, can I _please_ get a drink? I feel like I’m losing my mind,”

Eddie considers, “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he sucks on his teeth, “let’s get in the car,”

“So Derry, Maine?” Eddie asks as he closes the door. Dan besides him. 

“That’s where you’re from,” Dan says, upon taking Eddies subsequent expression in, he adds, “but you can’t remember that,”

“And how can you?”

“My gift goes… deeper than you’d think,” he says. He fears Eddie will push harder, but he doesn’t. 

He’s scared. 

“Do you think we should go there?” 

Dan purses his lips, “No,” he sits back, “I think you can’t remember for a very good reason, and you should be thankful,”

Eddie hesitates to ask, “Do you know the reason?”

Dan turns his face, looking at Eddie with his deep, blue eyes, the feeling returns. The all consuming feeling of seeing the same eyes in different people.

_Bill Denbrough,_ the name feels like a stab to Eddie’s heart. 

_(Love or pain whatisit Eddie can’t tell the difference)_

“Bill Denbrough,” Eddie says, the name feels like some sort of tongue twister on his mouth; something he has said over and over, but can’t remember why.

Dan furrows his brows, “Denbrough? The horror writer?”

Eddie grabs for his inhaler, except, of course he didn’t bring it. It’s all being a bit much for him. 

_Dan._

_Bill_

_Derry, Maine._

“Hey, hey,” Dan is grabbing his arm, ignoring the fact Eddie is violently shaking, “it’s okay,”

And to his own surprise, Eddie calms down.

_There’s something about Dan…_

“What do you wanna do?” Dan asks.

Eddie considers for a while; he could go to Derry, Maine, and find answers. Find why the name ‘Bill Denbrough’ feels so familiar and yet so foreign. Find who he’s supposed to be. 

Thing is, he doesn’t know if he’ll like the answers. 

The pain he feels on his chest _(It’s love but Eddie can’t tell. Because he’s never felt love that doesn’t hurt. And if it doesn’t hurt it’s not love– he had learned that from his mom)_ is simply unbearable.

He turns the ignition.

“Let’s go back,” he says, “this was dumb, I’m sorry,”

Dan shrugs, “It’s okay,”

“Anywhere you want me to drop you at?” he asks.

“Actually, yeah,” Dan says, “New Jersey,”

“You wanna go home and grab anything?” Eddie asks. Dan doesn’t change expression, “I’ll manage,” he simply says. 

Eddie wanted to be brave. He wanted _more_. But something was pulling him back. As he drives, he considers if Dan is this _something_ , but he only feels peace when he sees him, even when he knows stuff Eddie doesn’t. 

_He can know stuff, he has to. It’s his curse, not his gift._

He sees a man at his worse, and he sees hope. He sees the only way is up.

_If only._

He shakes these feelings up and keeps on driving.

***

“Thank you,” Dan says, as Eddie drops him off.

“You have anyone waiting for you?” Eddie asks, Dan nods. But Eddie can tell he doesn’t mean it. Dan might be able to read people. but Eddie isn’t stupid.  
However, he doesn’t push.

_A man at the end of his rope._

He says his goodbyes to Dan, wishing him the best, and wishing him recovery. Dan looks distant, but he thanks him. 

And once he’s out of sight, Eddie scrolls through his phone, getting to a name that seems to mock him.

_Marty_ he hesitates to press the call button, he hovers over it for what feels like hours. 

Then he presses it.

“Hi Myra,”

_Out of the blue and into the black. Because what comes around goes around._

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment :(
> 
> Find me on twitter as @LTCHAPTERTWO


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